


Sons of the Silent Age

by Lumivarjo



Series: Sons of the Silent Age [1]
Category: Life on Mars (UK), Original Work
Genre: Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-04
Updated: 2019-03-04
Packaged: 2019-11-05 21:53:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,322
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17927045
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lumivarjo/pseuds/Lumivarjo
Summary: He sought a new start, a new life, but Stanley was set to find that sooner than he thought. Hurtled backwards in time, now he seeks answers as he's brought in to the Merseyside police force in the 1980s with no recollection of how he got there.





	Sons of the Silent Age

 

Merseyside Police Station. Night. Approx 1:00 am.

   Well, Stanley would have to assume that's what time it was since his watch had disappeared earlier that day. The last of his paperwork was finally filled out and was now heading home, and although he thought he should have been dead on his feet, he couldn't help but feel restless. Carefully making his way down the steps of the station, Stanley felt on-edge, and understandably so. This place was hardly safe.  
   The night seemed still enough, however, besides the usual rowdy drunks hanging around by alley entrances, loudly boasting about god knows what. Not safe, but not dangerous enough to be a concern to anyone but other rowdy drunks. No youths around and most people seemed to be home by now, well, apart from some bloke dashing down the road with a bottle in his hand, leaving a trail behind him as he fumbled for keys in his pocket. He dashed towards and straight past Stanley with wide eyes and a muttering of "She's gonna fuckin' hang me if she finds out".  
   Stanley clutched his chest after the man darted past, startled by that brief encounter. It didn't take long for him to process what had happened quietly laughed at how much he was getting himself worked up. No bugger in their right mind would be out at this time unless they were shagging or getting pissed. Or both. Regardless, this was nice. A good distraction despite, or rather, because of the spooks. It was what he felt was a fair distraction from thinking about his recent break-up. At least until he remembered. The whole world felt colder now. It wasn't just that she'd left him, but why, and this new job in Merseyside only made things worse. But fuck it, he thought, onwards to survive another night. Putting his hands in his pockets, Stanley began to walk swiftly towards home, not wanting to dwell on shit he couldn't fix.  
   Rounding a corner, he took a quiet breath. Besides the time, it just seemed like an average night. Few had any reason to be out, and those that were had ignored Stanley, but something felt different. Like a premonition of sorts. Maybe Stanley was just forgetting something, or he'd left a light on back at the office. Maybe it was just the lateness getting to him.  
   He stopped in his tracks and looked back in the direction of the station. No, he had to keep going. Whatever it was, it can wait till tomorrow. Just get home, he urged himself on. The more he thought about it, the more his mind started messing with him. He just wanted to go home. He just wanted to go home and get the strongest pills he had, just to knock himself out. He took a deeper breath this time and began walking again, cutting through the alley that led to his housing estate.

That would be his first mistake.

   A hand grabbed Stanley's shoulder with a rough grip just by his neck. "Don't say a fuckin' word, not a fuckin' sound, alri'?" A hushed, growling tone. Uneasy, clearly not quite focused on what they were doing... But that was far worse than dealing with someone who'd planned out an attack.

   "Wh-...?!" An alarmed sound escaped Stanley lips before he could realize what was going on, the feeling of dread was washing over him and quickly thought about how to break away from strangers grip. Problem was, he didn't know yet if any weapons were involved. His whole body was tense, but he tried to stay calm. The grip tightened on his shoulder and he was suddenly pushed towards one of the walls of the alley. Something could be felt against his back, but what is was couldn't be determined just yet. "Wallet. Where is it?" They snarled at Stanley. "W-wait, what...? I-I don't have it on me....." Several clicks were heard at his back. Not a gun. Smaller, much lighter metal. "Don't fuckin' lie to me. Wallet. Now." With that, Stanley's head was forced against the wall and dragged for just a moment across the rough red brick.    Stanley could feel himself be cut by the bricks and in an attempt to escape he tried to talk his attacker down. "I-I have nothing, I swear!" Please let be some sort of sick joke, there was nothing he had to offer. The grip was loosened temporarily, but suddenly he was being patted down by this stranger. Stanley could only pray that there was something, anything in his pockets. Or even that there was an opening and he could try to do... Something. Stanley took a deep breath, knowing deep down that the fact that he had nothing with him was going to make this person even more pissed off. But his grip loosened for a moment, and Stanley saw an opening. Suddenly attempting to break away, he struggled against his grip in an effort to elbow his captor in the face.

That was his second mistake.

   The stranger was knocked back for a moment but rushed to grab a hold of Stanley, grabbing him by the collar and viciously pinning him to the wall. A metallic glint could be seen as the hands reached for his neck. A blade. He was pinned to the wall with a blade. Cringing, now completely in fear for his life and no other options, he was still struggling a little, mostly against the hands at his neck. But he couldn't move properly with that blade keeping him held in place. The steel was pushed against his neck, not enough to cut but enough to hurt. This guys eyes were unfocused, reddened, as he glared at Stanley. Pale, yet flushed, he chewed on his cheek. This guy was off his head on some strong shit... He wasn't going to be reasoned with.  
   Stanley pulled his head as far as he could from the blade, while his breathing was uneven. This fucker must have been out of his mind on cocaine or something.... "F-for the love of God, don't do this...." his voice was a pained whispers with the pain of the knife digging into his throat stopping him from attempting to call out for help... it was lost cause, but all he could do was beg... He was as pale as a ghost.  
   "Why the fuck not? Got no reason not to." They press the blade farther in, just enough to make a minor cut. Thank god the blade was dull enough or this would have been far worse. This was the end, wasn't it? It had to be. Nothing to offer, no way to fight back, but Stanley instinctively tried to push the attacker's arm away. Fuck it, he was already a dead man walking, but he wasn't about to go down without a fight. It was all or nothing.  
   His attacker didn't hesitate anymore. A white hot pain began to course through Stanley's lower half and a bitter warmth spread out from its origin... origins... the pain spread like a dot-to-dot of searing agony. That blade wasn't at his neck, not anymore. The pain overtook any other process in Stanley's mind, he was screaming though he was too damaged make any proper sound, and soon he slowly began losing his balance while bringing his arms closer to his now bleeding torso, but it was too late to defend himself. Far too late. He was slipping away.  
   As Stanley lowered to the ground, the vicious thrusts of the blade continued to pierce his abdomen. Despite the fiery pain, everything grew so much colder around him, as though winter was falling over the alley. Stanley lay helpless, trying to call for help, for anyone to come and save him but the blood was filling his throat. He just wanted the pain to stop, the suffering to end, to wake from the nightmare.

 


End file.
